Screeching to a Halt
by ifonly13
Summary: "And then, her world stopped."


_**Screeching to a Halt**_

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><p><em><strong>In Memorium<strong>_

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><p>"You'll meet us at the restaurant?"<p>

Jim had been on the phone with his wife for the past fifteen minutes, watching as Kate paced across the living room, tapping her fingers against her thigh in a counter-beat to the soft click of her heels on the carpet. The girl was certainly impatient to go out to dinner with her parents; Jim didn't recall ever looking forward to such an event when he had been a teenager. Still, he smiled as his daughter turned again, her ponytail swinging out behind her before it settled again on the wool of her jacket, the cashmere of the pale pink scarf looped around her neck.

Johanna assured him that she was just going to finish up a little bit of research on this case and head out of the office, insisting that he was a worry bug worse than her Katie. Jim had to laugh at the little glare the aforementioned child shot at the phone and her mother indirectly before he told Johanna that he loved her and hung up.

"So?" Kate asked, quitting her pacing and tucking her hands into the deep pockets of the coat. "She coming?"

He got up, running a hand over his hair before going to get his own coat. "She's meeting us there. Something to do with a pro bono case she took on a while back and just found some new evidence for. Wants to track it down before she forgets about it."

Kate rolled her eyes behind her father's back as he shrugged into his dark peacoat and dug for his gloves in the pockets. She switched the lights off in the apartment behind them as they locked the front door and started toward the elevator.

Their doorman, a nice middle-aged man who didn't speak much from behind his newspaper, did wave as they went by to hail a cab. The ride wasn't very long, but it was cold out, the January wind biting at their noses and ears even on the short walk from the door of the building to the curb to get into the cab.

"It's colder here than California," Kate commented, huddling into her warm jacket and placing her hands under her thighs to try and heat them up a bit.

Jim tweaked her nose with a grin. "Yes, well, we can't all live in the Golden State for the majority of the year, can we?"

She wrinkled her nose, trying to give him a disapproving look and only succeeding in smiling. "Sure you could. Up and move out to the West Coast. There're law firms out there where you and Mom could work on the days you aren't surfing, sunbathing on your balcony, or mingling with celebrities."

"Lovely image, but I think your mother and I are happy with New York City at the moment. Maybe retirement will call for a change in time zones."

Kate slid out of the cab first, letting her father pay the driver before thanking him and joining her on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. The exterior was unassuming; a simple awning of white declaring it as Park Avenue Winter. It was one of Johanna's favorite restaurants and they had decided to splurge on the last week that Kate was home for Winter Break from Stanford. Plus, Kate had a certain fondness for their Broccoli Cheetos that she was unable to get over in California. Jim didn't see her above sneaking an order into her purse to bring back to her dorm with her.

He gave the maitre d' his name, telling the woman they had a reservation for seven o'clock for three. They were given a corner table, were handed menus, and told their server would be over promptly. Kate draped her jacket over the back of the cushioned bench, pulling down the sleeves of her black dress and tugging her ponytail over her shoulder so she could fiddle with the curling ends.

Both of them knew what they wanted already so Kate placed her menu atop her father's and shifted them to the side of the table, leaving Johanna's at her place. Then she reached into her purse and turned her phone off, slipping it back into the pocket of the leather bag and zipping it closed.

"How long did she say she would be?" Kate asked, toeing her purse under the table so it sat between her high heel clad feet.

Jim shrugged, twisting the empty wine glass between his fingers. "Not long. It's not like we don't know what she's going to order."

"Garden salad, hold the onions," the two of them said together with a smile. Johanna was anything but unpredictable. She had a regular order at most of their favorite and most frequented restaurants and Jim and Kate knew most of them by heart.

So when the server came over and asked for their drink orders, Kate had told the young man that they could do the whole thing. Her father got a glass of Pinot Noir with his salmon, ordered Johanna's garden salad telling the server that she'd order a drink when she arrived. Kate paired her chicken with a glass of iced tea after ordering the Broccoli Cheetos that she so loved.

It was past seven forty-five, after the Cheetos had been eaten mostly by Kate, when Jim started to worry along with his daughter, who had been at it for the last half hour. He had long given up trying to hold a conversation about classes or her job or roommates and simply watched as she had spiraled into more and more anxiety over the missing Johanna Beckett.

"Where could she be?" Kate said for the tenth time, her shoe tapping out a rhythm under the table as she swirled her iced tea a little too fiercely and nearly lost an ice chip onto the table.

Jim was less obvious in his concern, glancing at his watch, then over to the doorway where she should be entering. "Give her some time, Katie. You know how she gets with her cases. Wrapped up so tightly that she loses track of time completely." When Kate looked unconvinced, Jim shrugged. "Check your phone and see if she left a message."

She was quick to turn the phone back on to find only an e-mail from the English department about her hours for the spring semester in their front office. "Nothing," she sighed, putting the phone away again.

"Don't worry. We'll get her salad to go and she can have it once she gets home." Jim ran a hand over Kate's wrist as she turned her fork over, frowning a little.

So in addition to Johanna's salad, Kate snuck in another order of the Broccoli Cheetos before they paid and pulled jackets back on to face the wait for a cab along Park Avenue. Kate was jittery the entire ride back to their apartment, pulling at the single thread peeking out of the cuff on her jacket to the point where Jim took her hand and placed it on the seat between them with a firm look that told her to stop.

"Sorry. Can't get you closer," said the cabbie, stopping at the corner of their block. "Looks like police activity down your way."

Kate watched the lights of the two police cars grouped down the street flash off street signs and windows as her father paid the cabbie and joined her.

"Wonder what's going on," he muttered as they walked toward the apartment.

It wasn't until they got into their building and found a uniformed officer talking to the doorman that even Jim started getting a little worried. Still, they took the elevator up to their floor, watching the numbers increase slowly, Kate's concern growing with them.

At their door was a single man, his hands in the pockets of his black trench coat as he leaned a shoulder against the wall.

"Can we help you?" asked Jim, feeling for his keys from his pocket to unlock the door, but not taking them out until the man answered. He knew better than to unlock an apartment door without knowing who was behind him. Kate shifted next to her father's shoulder, looking the stranger up and down once before settling on the man's grey eyes.

The man took a badge from his pocket and held it out for both of them to see. "Detective John Raglan, NYPD. I need to talk to you both." When he saw Jim's hesitation, he nodded. "Inside would be better."

The door was unlocked, lights were turned on, and Kate placed the plain white bag on the kitchen counter before going to stand with Jim in the space between the living room and dining room.

"What's this about, Detective?" Jim asked politely, keeping the man's eye contact.

He wasn't giving anything away as he spoke. "You're James Beckett?"

Jim only nodded, eyes narrowing even as Kate twisted her arm through his, her thumb rubbing over the worn band of his watch.

"You might want to sit down, Mr. Beckett, Miss Beckett."

They shook their heads simultaneously. "What is it?"

Raglan took a deep breath and Kate found herself taking one at the same time. "It's about your wife. She was found dead this evening."

And then, her world stopped.

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><p><em>AN: In honor of the thirteenth anniversary of Johanna Beckett's murder._

_I would like to extend an incredibly grateful "thank you" to thejetsetgirl, without who's expertise on all things NYC I would never have found the sheer super-coolness of Park Avenue Winter. Google it, people. I couldn't ask for a better Beckett to my Castle._


End file.
